This story has been told, but the truth about stories is they're never told the same way twice. It's August, 2015 and Elizabeth is dancing with FAB at DANY Studios down on 38th, somewhere between 8th and 9th. She didn't... Read more →

The bear's name is Parquet and if you've ever read The Velveteen Rabbit, be assured that Parquet has been real for a very long time. An odd eleven year old asked for a teddy-bear at Christmas and the bear appeared... Read more →

Writer's prompts are magical. There is a section in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in which the protagonist is remembering a moment with a college student struggling to write well. I won't get into the philosophical discussion of... Read more →

We migrated south from New England, down to the Badlands of Fairfield County. Technically still New England by virtue of the nearly invisible line separating it from Westchester County, New England it was not. I'd never stayed in any one... Read more →

In the beginning she told herself they were small things; no matter at all. She placed them, one by one, in the small carved box at the back of a closet and said, no matter, it is no matter at... Read more →